If the Door Dares
by thalogens
Summary: A man behind a door is never a cause for much speculation. But when this door has never been known to open, it is suddenly of utmost interest to those who have always passed it and wondered why this door even existed at all to hear a man's deep breathing and the handle clicking open.
1. Prologue

It was the pained groaning of an aged man that first attracted Riza to the Constantly Locked Door. She eyed the passage way furtively, scanning the corridor with her military trained eyes for the source of the noise, to no avail. The corridor was still dark, tucked away beneath tones of Amestrian soil, the little light available was flickering, feeble. Stopping altogether, Riza slowly lowered the files she had been collecting to the ground and called out; the groaning stopped instantly, only to be replaced with a grating rasping; and had it not been for the regular intervals at which it stopped and started, could have passed not for a sick man's gasping, but for the sound of the wind when it pants it's last pant.

"…Is anybody there?" she called in a carrying whisper, quickly halting her own breathing to better hear the resultant spluttering of the man behind the Constantly Locked Door. "If you're hurt, I can help – Central Hospital is quite near-by…" Her voice petered out, alarmed by the sudden quiet. No laboured breathing could be heard. Apprehensively, she inched towards the Handle That Stayed Closed and rattled it, jumping back as the Handle clicked open, and a stream of light edged itself into the dark corridor, lighting the dust the wind had lifted. _Wind in a cellar?_ She thought, peering tentatively in to the room beyond the Constantly Locked Door.

* * *

_A/N, I only vaguely know where this is going, (I'll sort of be making it up as I go along) but bare with me. _  
_Reviews will help inspire me to carry on (though there isn't much to review, to be honest)_


	2. Chapter 1

Riza's eyes immediately found the source of the terrible groaning: a man sat slumped against the bare stone wall of the dusty room she found herself in, his face burrowed in his arms. The man's breathing now merely sharp, shallow intakes of air. Occasionally he would splutter, as if his heart had missed a beat. His shoulders seem to sag under the weight of the air on his being. Hawkeye cleared her throat, still standing at the door. She dared not run to the man's side too suddenly, for fear of him being hostile.

'Excuse me, sir,' she said, approaching him carefully. The man winced, his face stayed burrowed between his arms, shoulder length straggly black hair shrouding the little of his face that could be seen. His skin was a frightening white, bordering on grey, it stretched over his face like that of a dead man: transparent, sickly.

'Don't… don't speak,' the man growled suddenly, his voice wrought with pain; thick and struggling. 'Water, get me… get me water.' With one arm still propped up by his leg, he freed the other to grapple around on the floor beside him, his fingers stretching to the side of the wall, the floor, quivering with hurt as they fruitlessly searched around him.

Hawkeye hesitated, eyeing the man pensively. After a moments deliberation, she slipped out from the room, leaving the Constantly Locked Door slightly ajar. Subconsciously, Hawkeye checked she still had her trusted firearms with her, as she picked the files from the floor and hurriedly rushed to the surface. The sudden normality Riza found herself in perturbed her, finding that her mind was still with the strange occurrence of the man behind the Constantly Locked Door. Shaking her head slightly, she headed smartly to the Colonels office, rapping on the oaken door with a tightly clenched fist. She quickly shook out her hand, surprised at how tense she was. Upon hearing a faint grunt of approval from inside, Hawkeye brusquely walked in, slamming the files on to her desk. The colonel sat with his head on his desk, breathing deeply.

'Colonel,' she snapped sharply, simultaneously picking up the brimming cup of water beside him, 'I think there's something you'd better see.'

The Colonel didn't reply, choosing instead to turn his head away. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'send Fullmetal.'

'This is important; it doesn't concern Fullmetal.'

'Hawkeye, if it's so important, deal with it yourself. I'm having a break,' she eyed the untouched documents disbelievingly.

'Colonel,' she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, berating herself at how agitated she was, 'it, well… it involves the Constan-' She couldn't finish, for the Colonel had instantly sat up, his eyes weary.

'What do you mean the Constantly Locked Door?' He hissed, hurriedly looking past Hawkeye, 'That Door is out of bounds, not even the janitors can get in. I don't even know if the higher ups can either...' He added, lost in his musings.

'Sir, I can assure you that the Door is most definitely open.'

'So, you're telling me the _Constantly Locked Door_… is open?' he laughed without humour, 'you do realise, Hawkeye, the reason why it's been dubbed the _Constantly_ Locked Door? Are you sure you don't need to take the day off? The cases recently have certainly been piling up,' he shot the paperwork a nasty look, before noticing how tense his Lieutenant was.

Hawkeye narrowed her eyes shrewdly at him, turning on her heel so abruptly the water in the glass sloshed quite dangerously. Marching back to the basement, Hawkeye tried not to smirk childishly as she heard Colonel Mustang dash to follow her, imagining the adventurous glint in his eyes shining brightly.

'Well, this is it Lieutenant,' Mustang breathed, eyeing the dark passageway suspiciously. 'If this Door opens… No, that's impossible,' he rolled his eyes, pointing to the sign on the door "This Door Must Be Constantly Locked". Riza snorted, laying her hand on the brass handle.

'You shoot flames from your fingers, sir,' she muttered.

'Excuse me, _Lieutenant_, but that's science,' he spluttered. She ignored him, twisting the handle down with her free hand, smirking as she heard the satisfying _click_. Mustang couldn't hide his shock. It was still deathly silent; Hawkeye wasted no time in swinging the Constantly Locked Door open…

The man was still sitting against the same stretch of wall; his head leaning back, eyes staring unseeingly at the great expanse of ceiling above him. His arms hung beside him, one hand clasped tightly around a thin strip of wood. Tears ran down his pallid face, and Hawkeye saw that the pain he was in was not a result from the various cuts and gashes on his person, but from the sense of loss displayed so intricately on his features. It gathered around the creases of his eyes, and was echoed in his defeated stance. The Lieutenant uncertainly stretched out her hand, offering the water.

'Err, excuse me… sir,' she added hesitantly, 'but, are you alright?' She was granted with no reply. Instead, his grey eyes swivelled down to meet hers- and in a flash, his hand had snatched her arm, gripping it tightly. The glass fell, smashing against the earthy floor, its contents spilling around them. Before Riza could even point her gun to his face, Mustang was hovering above them, fingers poised at the ready. Hawkeye hadn't even seen him move.

'Let go of her.' It was not a plea, but a command. The man snorted with laughter- and still the tears fell readily.

'What, you going to _click your fingers at me,' _he mocked, laughing in earnest.

Mustang instantly ignited the patch of wall behind him, smirking as the man pointed the thin strip of wood at Mustang's chest.

'And you plan on _splintering_ me to death?' He eyed the hand still grasped tightly around his subordinate's, immediately sober. 'Let go of her,' he repeated, not noticing the sparks that flew from the end of the piece of wood, which burned a small round hole in his uniform.

And they stood there, frozen, for what seemed an eternity in an endless unseen battle, until the man sighed, and moved his gaze to Hawkeye, simultaneously releasing her from his clutch. 'Sorry about the glass,' he muttered, nodding his head at the smashed cup on the floor, 'let me just fix that for you.' He pointed his wand at the cup on the floor, and in an instant the cup was whole again. 'Sorry about the water, Gamps law and that.'

Again, there was silence, 'How did you transmute that without even clapping?' Mustang breathed, absentmindedly pulling the man to his feet as he stared transfixed at the once broken glass.

'Easy,' he laughed, glancing at Hawkeye as she swiftly whipped out her gun. 'Ahh...' he said, suddenly wary, 'I assumed you'd be wizards... but that doesn't explain how you can conjure fire,' he frowned, the tears still streaking through the dust on his pallid face. The room was plunged into tense silence once more as they stood in hushed contemplation.

'Sir,' said Hawkeye uncertainly, 'are you sure you're alright?'

'Never better,' he smiled sadly, pushing himself off the wall and rubbing has hands together. 'Where's the way out, I'm starving.'

'Wait, not so fast, you're not leaving before you tell me where you came from.'

'Isn't it obvious?' He pointed to the far corner of the room, 'I came from there.'

Tucked away in the damp darkness of the room, away from the light of the small oil lamp hanging precariously from the ceiling was a tiny alcove. And in that alcove stood an ancient archway so old and broken the air around it trembled, as if fighting to support it in its plight to stay standing. A tattered black veil hung from the archway, fluttering in an unseen breeze, wafting to them the scent of an aged magic, of wisdom they couldn't ever fathom. And from behind the veil, bodiless voices laughed and chattered quietly, in tones so soft the trio strained to listen.

'I'm Sirius Black,' he said, taking Hawkeye's hand and kissing it, so that his tears splashed onto her fingers, 'and who are you?'

* * *

_**A/N** Of course it's Sirius, who else would it be?_

_Edited 24/02/'11_


	3. Chapter 2

The man, Sirius Black he called himself, stared at the hand clutched in his. His brows furrowed together as he noticed the small round tear drops on the back of Hawkeye's outstretched hand for the first time. Not one for prolonged physical contact with strange and possibly hostile men, Hawkeye withdrew her hand and shot Mustang a wary look. The Colonel frowned back and shook his head slightly, not knowing what to make of the scene as his mind worked furiously to piece together this queer puzzle. A movement from Black immediately drew their attention back to him. He had brought his fingers slowly to his face, just touching the tears that hadn't stopped flowing.

"It seems to me that I'm crying," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone.

"Err, well yes. We've noticed," replied Mustang bemusedly, raising an eyebrow at their unexpected guest. He still hadn't quite gotten over the fact that the Constantly Locked Door was quite open, despite its fittingly dubbed nickname. Again he looked back to his Lieutenant, wanting answers but receiving a wide eyed stare that told him she knew just as much as he did about their current situation.

Black ignored him; instead he looked sombrely at his damp fingers, all traces of humour gone as he strained to remember the scene he had just departed. He remembered he was laughing, jubilant. He remembered a mane of wild unkempt black curls. A flash of light and those green, green eyes.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," he whispered suddenly, the words spilling from his mouth of their own accord. He wiped his eyes from the last of the tears that had begun to trickle to nothing more than a slow drip-drop on his chest, closing his eyes tight and finally piecing together his last moments of the life he had, only to quickly blink them open again at the sound of Mustang clearing his throat.

"Oh," he said again, looking back to the thoroughly confused pair. "Oh, apologies. You see, it appears that I'm quite stranded here." He smiled weakly to show that he meant no threat to them as he tucked the stick back into his sleeve.

"What do you mean 'stranded'? How is it you got here in the first place, anyway?!" Mustang would not let this mystery pass. Hawkeye remained silent, her fingers still grasping lightly at her trusted firearms, even though she had judged this man to be of no threat. Yet.

"Surely 'stranded' means the same thing here as it does back home…? And I told you, I came in through the gate."

Mustang was getting impatient. He walked towards the ancient gate and eyed it shrewdly. The queer fluttering of the veil enticed him closer, he absentmindedly reached out a hand to pull the veil aside, stopping only when caution in the form of Riza Hawkeye pulled his arm back from doing something he could quite possibly regret.

"That wouldn't be wise, Sir," warned Hawkeye, forever his voice of reason.

"Indeed. We should probably gather more information about this… Perhaps the old records…" Mustang drifted off into silent contemplation. He turned back to Black, who had sunk back down to the ground, his back to the wall and eyes once again tracing the distant earthy lines of the ceiling.

"It's no use, you know," spoke the man calmly to himself, his gaze unfocused, "instinct tells me there's no way back now that I've settled here…"

The Colonel paced back and forth; Hawkeye sensed his frown ran far deeper than annoyance at not being able to solve this puzzle – he was a boy again, and this his new adventure.

"Can't you unsettle? Go back? Frankly we don't know what to do with you and really we should be treating you as a threat – guilty until proven otherwise, y'know. Maybe try walking back through or something. Really. You're just going to end up as excess paperwork in the long run and I can't have that… But this is too good an opportunity to waste any time. If only I could see…"

Hawkeye shot the Colonel a disdainful glance, "I think the best thing to do is report him to Grumman, he's had quite a bit of experience on random factors similar to Black."

"I don't think that's quite how the phrase goes, Mr Military," mused Black, a sad soft smile ghosting his lips.

The energy from Mustang was palpable; the gleam in his eyes even visible to Black, should the man look away from the distance and to the Colonel pacing in front of him.

"Have you not managed to go through yet?"

"I haven't tried. What's the point? I know I can't go back." He laughed a manic bark, and then immediately dropped his chin to his chest, his hair shielding his face once again.

"You haven't even tried!? Then there's no reason to wait longer, you must want to know?" Mustang, a scientist at heart, couldn't fathom a mystery left alone and untouched. Particularly when one's entire future depended on it. "I think I might just try myself." He reached his hand up once more.

"Sir, have you lost your mind? We have no idea where this leads– or whether we could come back at all. We need more information before we try anything like looking behind the veil- "

"There isn't time for that, don't you see? This man's world has alchemy far beyond our current powers! It is my duty to learn it and use it to help benefit mankind, before anyone else uses it to start another Ishval. Think of the opportunities, Lieutenant, transmutation circle free alchemy… the possibilities! Besides, you were to stay here and call for Grumman-"

"And presumably wait by this gate while you are meandering through potential enemy lands, _quite_ unprotected, twiddling my thumbs hoping for your safe return? Please. Do you forget my promise?"

Mustang paused. He sighed.

"Then it's decided. Though something has to be done about _him_, first." Her eyes flicked to Black, who was now standing again and staring quite unashamedly at Lieutenant Hawkeye. Noticing, she tightened her grip on the firearm once more, perturbed by his unblinking gaze. He moved closer to stand beside them at the gate, causing her to step back to Mustang, blocking his path to the Colonel.

"I knew there was something odd about you," breathed Black, his pace not slowing until he was uncomfortably close to Hawkeye. She backed further into the Colonel, clicking off the safety on her gun. The look in his eyes disturbed her, so full of sadness and grief fuelled determination, "I knew you'd never really left, not really."

Hawkeye was more than perplexed. She backed further one step, so she was standing beside the Colonel on the raised base of the gate, never loosing eye contact with Black for fear she might miss the moment the look in his eyes change to something more dangerous than sorrow. Mustang turned, swiftly pushing Hawkeye behind him as he raised his fingers, his gaze icy.

"I warn you-"

Sirius Black, never really a man for authority, barked a loud laugh and tumbled sobbing into the unsuspecting arms of Riza Hawkeye. Jumping back one step was all it would have taken to push them all into the veil's drag, and one step back did they take. Having never met their mark, the fire that had burst from Mustang's fingers quickly faded away into nothingness, crackling loudly in the suddenly empty room.

_**AN/ **__SORRY. Two years since the last update is simply unforgivable, but sixth form was cray cray and I'm going to try and get most of this finished before Uni starts in October! Every review and alert made me feel really guilty so… I tried my best with this, I think. Though this was mostly a filler chapter, so stay tuned..? Its also been 2 years since I've done aaaany creative writing so I'm really not sure how I've fared :S Thanks again, reviewers and readers, you're the best._


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